


Vial Vile

by razielim



Series: Merry Smutmas 2018 [5]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Dark Magic, M/M, Summoned Monster, Teratophilia, Violent Noncon, extreme penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razielim/pseuds/razielim
Summary: Gren is sent on the mission to “rescue” the princes with Soren and Claudia. When Claudia goes off on her own in search of an ingredient, the two knights run into a little trouble with the potion ingredients they were supposed to be guarding. Several exploded vials and a few drops of blood later, a dangerous concoction is spreading rapidly through the grass, gaining power and forming into something living…





	Vial Vile

Gren had ridden behind the siblings and so missed most of the details of where Claudia had gone and why he and Soren had to stay here and guard the packs. He’d tried at the beginning of their journey to strike up conversation with his companions, but the two seemed hostile to his presence so he’d quickly given up. Instead, he’d held back, kept an ear open, and wondered if the siblings were as untrustworthy as their father. Were they in on his schemes? Or if they only had limited information, had he perhaps given them obfuscated orders? Gren faced the very real possibility that Claudia and Soren were only his allies until the princes were located. After that… Claudia was a very promising mage. There was a good chance that he could die trying to save King Harren’s children.

“You’re not quite as chipper as you were back at the castle,” Soren commented. He had climbed up onto a tall rock formation and sat with a whole dozen apples next to him, seemingly intent on crushing them all.

Gren found the energy to perk up, and smiled at Soren. No point on dwelling on what-ifs any further. “I’m just thinking that we’re lucky it’s summer. The princes are in enough danger out here without having to struggle against the elements too.”

Soren pouted and looked skyward. Gren had learned this was his thinking face; Soren didn’t it often.

“True,” said Soren. “In fact, a lot of lucky things have been happening. The princes stopping at the lodge, getting out of the castle in the first place… somehow. Getting so far so fast. I don’t know, something is all off about this whole situation.”

Gren was a little more impressed now. Perhaps Soren wasn’t a complete airhead.

Gren’s horse shied, pulling at the reigns in his hand. A fire-squirrel was darting around his mount’s hooves, trailing sparks. Gren stomped at it, shooing, and the naughty creature sprang away, heading for Claudia’s horse instead. Hastily looping Starlight’s reigns around a branch, Gren sprang after it.

Seeing him chasing it, the fire-squirrel squeaked in alarm, and streamed up the leg of Claudia’s horse, causing it to rear in alarm.

“Oh, way to _go_ , Lieutenant!” he heard Soren jibe behind him just as the critter dove into the packs Claudia had told them to guard with their lives, “If you’re trying to get _all_ our horses to stampede away, you’re doing great.”

A flask fell out of the pack just as Gren reached the horse. It shattered, sending up a shimmering dark brown cloud. Gren dove his hand into the pack, but the horse reared again, twisting his arm. He heard Soren shouting, the loud racket of his armor as he sprang up and ran over, but the next moment, thrashing wildly, the horse had snapped its reigns. The cloth pack, not made for rough travel, tore off its fastenings, and Gren fell, arm still inside, battling with the critter.

The horse thundered away as Gren rolled upright to pull the now smoking pack open. The fire-squirrel sprang out, its smoking tail now carrying a little pilot light on the tip. In its front paws, it clutched some sort of bauble. It looked like the thief would sprint away clean, but a sword sliced through the air in front of it, scoring the ground a hair’s breadth in front of its whiskered face.

Soren smirked down at the squirrel.

“My next swing will take your head off.”

A hissing noise stole Gren’s attention. He looked into the pack. Two potions, one bright red, the other a shimmering blue were leaking out of large flasks and slowly combining in the pack, sending up heat into Gren’s face.

“Oh no,” was all he had time to say before a tiny stoppered bottle exploded in the mixture and sent glass shards like fireworks in every direction. Gren fell back, cautiously brushing off his stinging, bleeding face, amazed that none had gotten in his eyes. The hissing turned into a fizzling as another flask audibly cracked, its potion presumably reacting with the first two, and as soon as Gren was sure there wasn’t any glass in his lashes or brows, he cautiously peeked at the situation.

The pack was now in a black pool of caked-over potion that was glowing an ominous green through the cracks in its surface. It, and all its contents, seemed to be slowly dissolving and incorporating into the mixture, setting off sparks or clouds of vapor as each new ingredient escaped. Beyond it, Soren was coughing in a cloud of glittering dust and stripping off his armor. The fire-squirrel was nowhere to be seen.

“Soren!” Gren called out, wiping at the blood on his nose which was dripping ticklishly onto the ground. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not! That little bastard threw that stupid marble at me and now I’ve got a boner the size of the royal scepter and I’m going to _die_ if I can’t get all this armor off.”

Gren’s train of thought completely derailed. He stared as Soren kept wrestling with the strap of his breastplate, jumping from foot to foot and whining. A soft hissing reminded him he had bigger problems than puzzling out Soren’s strange comments, and he edged back as the pool of potion between them spread further. It reached the blood he’d dripped onto the grass and fizzled. With a huge surge of light, the whole puddle turned opalescent, gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Gren braced himself, waiting to see what would happen, but the potion seemed to have gone dormant, glowing, but no longer spreading.

There was no time to be relieved, because when he looked up, Soren had stripped naked and wrapped a fist around his dick, a look of pure relief on his face.

“That’s certainly not the size of the royal scepter,” he called out, grimacing, proud to finally have come up with a retaliatory jab but increasingly disconcerted. Soren made a rude gesture and sank into the grass at the edge of the pearly potion, not letting up in his indecent display. Gren averted his gaze, suddenly very interested in studying the leaves of a nearby tree, and cleared his throat. “So the marble gave you a magic _erection?_ Why does your sister even _have_ something with that effect?”

“I don’t think that thing was supposed to be shattered,” Soren replied, now panting, “Probably had a somewhat different effect when it was whole. Knowing her and Father, though, I’m just happy it’s not something worse. And that she’s not coming back for a while. _That_ would be embarrassing.”

Gren groaned. “But she will come back eventually. On a scale of one to ten, how dead are we?”

Soren didn’t answer. Instead, there was a loud pained groan, and then a long happy sigh. Gren felt his ears heat up. Soren was probably right. Considering the sheer variety of compounds they’d accidentally let spill or break, they were lucky that nothing worse had happened.

“Man, what the fuck? Why won’t it go down?”

Gren glanced over without meaning to, and as he did, he noticed the pool of potion was now swirling, the color of a pale blue sky, building in luminescence.

“When did that change color?” he asked, stepping back, alarmed, but the potion was decreasing in size even as it grew brighter and swirled faster.

Soren shrugged, back to jerking himself off, face screwed up. “When some of my stuff landed in it.”

Gren stared.

“Oh no.”

He’d only just said it when the potion exploded with a burst of hot wind that knocked him off his feet. Gren couldn’t breathe, the maelstrom sucking the air from his lungs. Digging his fingers into the dirt, Gren pulled himself away from the vortex. Spots danced in his vision. Something grabbed his ankle, pulling him back. Gren flailed, choked, clutching at his throat.

He lost consciousness.

✘✘✘✘✘✘✘

When he opened his eyes, the world was blurry and spinning. He was lying on his back. Hot breath washed over his naked chest, and Gren stretched, enjoying the feeling. Tangling his fingers in the grass, he yawned as his hose was pulled off of one leg, then the other.

A hot tongue laved over his soft cock, and Gren sat bolt upright, coming face to face with a dragon.

Or something _dragon-like,_ at least. He scrambled back and away, taking note of his armor and sword lying yards away to his right, Soren kneeling on his left, completely absorbed in rubbing one out.

“Still?!” Gren yelled.

He would have continued yelling, but moving quickly, the dragon grabbed him by the ankle and lifted him into the air, deflating Gren’s shouting to a frightened yelp.

“Hey, shut up, Mr. Unconscious!” Soren yelled back, too absorbed to notice Gren’s dire predicament. “Next time _you_ can wrestle the bauble of Nonstop Infinite Wanking from the fire-squirrel!”

But Gren was only half listening. Upside-down, he’d come face to face with the dragon’s two massive cocks. Fully erect.

He shied as best as he could.

“Uhh, Soren, really could use some help.”

Glancing to the side, he saw Soren stand on wobbly legs, take two steps, and collapse again, shuddering. “Working on it,” was all Soren said before falling onto his side and wrapping his second hand around his erection. Useless.

Gren turned again to the dragon, craning his neck to see past the gigantic putrid cockhead bobbing in front of him.

It was unlike any dragon he’d ever seen on the battlefield. The head was certainly all very dragon shaped, if somewhat small, but the body was of a two-legged creature, like an elf or a human. Spines, ridges, and claws as well as its enormous size set it apart from any other humanoid. All in all, Gren had no idea what sort of monster he was looking at.

“Soren, how’s that rescue plan coming along?”

“Nnnnnnngh.”

“Great.”

The dragon stepped to the side, swinging Gren and knocking him face-first into its foul-smelling cock. Gren gasped, wiping his face and holding an arm out as a protective barrier as he was swung forward again and again. Then he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ground as the dragon leaned forward and hoisted Soren into the air as well, gripping him around the waist.

“All according to plan, I’m sure,” Gren said, still doubled over as the dragon straightened up, trying to wrestle his ankle from the massive talons. They, however, held him securely and didn’t yield.

Soren spluttered next to him as he came face to face with one of the dragon’s erections, using one hand to pinch his nose, but didn’t let up on his own masturbation.

“Seriously, Soren, is it really that bad?” Gren yelled as he finally fell back to dangle limply, the panic rising. “I think the dragon’s a little more dire, don’t you?”

“If I could stop, I would. You think this feels even _remotely_ good anymore? But it feels like I’m gonna faint every time I take my hand off!” Soren shouted back. His face and neck and chest were all flushed and his eyes were so dazed they looked glassy. “Or like Death is chasing me and I have to outrun it. So sorry that I have _two_ problems to worry about! Maybe _you_ should be rescuing _me_ from the — the —”

Soren broke off and came with a shudder.

Gren didn’t have time to feel guilty about what Soren had said because the dragon had swung him forward and was now moving him up and down, its cock rubbing across Gren’s abdomen and dribbling foul, cloudy liquid onto him in long, sticky strings. He flailed, pushing the monster’s dick away, but was only rewarded for his troubles by more drippings on his hands and forearms.

“Cut it out! At least take a bath first!” Soren was clearly not having any more luck wrestling one-handed.

“Maybe it has a weak spot!” Gren called over, but Soren snorted.

“Yeah, I think it’s got _two_ of those, and it’s trying to bludgeon us to death with them as we speak.”

“Is this _really_ the time for jokes?”

Soren looked over, eyes wide and indignant. “Am I _wrong?_ ”

He wasn’t.

As much as he was trying to ignore the texture of the large erection against his arm, he could feel that it was too thick to do any damage with his nails. Most likely not his teeth either, if he could bring himself to do that. But the genitals were still softer than all the rest of the creature, which looked to be covered in the armored leathery hide dragons were known for.

They’d need a weapon to put so much as a scratch on this creature.

But Gren’s sword and dagger lay fifty yards behind the monster, and Soren’s weapons lay about as far in the other direction.

While he was thinking, Soren was hoisted higher into the air. Bringing him close to its own face, the dragon reached out with its tongue and licked at Soren’s unfortunate erection, eliciting a gasp from the knight.

“Oh, this is going to fuck me up for life, for sure,” Soren muttered, taking his hand off his dick and shaking it out as the dragon licked him more. “This is _definitely_ going to awaken something in me.”

“Soren, focus!” Gren yelled. “Try to poke out its eyes or something!”

Soren grumbled something, but, both hands finally free as the dragon wrapped its tongue around his dick and squeezed, Soren reached for its eyes. Not even close. Aiming instead at a closer targer, he reached for its nostrils and seemed to manage to tickle one but the dragon gave no reaction, tongue tip flicking lazily across Soren’s balls. Finally, frustrated, Soren punched it in its outstretched tongue.

The dragon gave a big snort and Soren yelped. Even from further away, Gren had felt the burst of hot air. Then the dragon’s tongue unwound slowly from Soren’s dick and slipped further between Soren’s legs.

Soren, both hands immediately back on his dick, groaned in dismay. “Yeah, I’m never going to forget this, am I? I’ll be an old and decrepit forty year old and I’ll still have to jerk off to dragon rimj—” He yelped, grunted, “Oof, that’s a bit more than a rimjob,” and came again.

Gren sagged. If Soren was just going to joke his way through the whole situation, then their only hope was Claudia coming back sooner rather than later.

“How are you so okay with this?” Gren yelled, at his limits of trying to understand Soren.

Soren looked down at him with alarm. “I have a giant dragon tongue in my ass. I’m literally losing my virginity to a _dragon_. I was saving up gold to lose it to Madame Hira! What in the hell makes you think I’m anywhere _near_ being okay?”

The dragon lifted Gren up higher too, and Gren breathed in deeply, finally getting some palatable air. He watched the tongue warily as it pulled from Soren and licked around the monster’s snout.

“Madame Hira?” he asked weakly as the tongue now stretched toward him. He braced himself to put up a fight.

“The most beautiful and talented courtesan in the capital,” Soren said as a dreamy expression passed across his features. “Most expensive too,” he added, frowning again. “I’ve been saving up since I was fifteen, and now _this_ ugly jerk cut in line.”

  


The tongue aimed straight past Gren’s soft dick, and Gren grappled it but struggled to get a solid grip on the slick surface. “Again with the jokes,” he hissed, trying to dig his nails in and failing. The tip curled around to lick at his hole.

“You’d make a lot of jokes too with a family like mine,” Soren grumbled as the tongue squirmed against Gren’s hole, fighting against his clenched muscle, dribbling saliva up his spine.

Gren squeezed his hands in between tongue and hole as a barrier. “Thanks, but I’m good!” he yelled at the beast.

“ _Now_ who’s got jokes?” Soren grouched next to him, and Gren looked over to see that the mopey knight had seemingly recovered enough to take one hand off his dick to try to free his foot.

The dragon bellowed, shocking both of them with its hot breath.

Then Gren plummeted down.

Gren took a moment to realize he could stop screaming in terror. The dragon hadn’t dropped him, per se, just laid him on the ground. As soon as he realized he had command of all four limbs, he was up on his feet and sprinting for his sword, vision spotty from the inversion.

He didn’t get far.

Massive talons grabbed him again, this time around the waist and holding him upright. It was like being bound in iron. He turned to see that Soren had slid deeper into the grip of the beast, and most of his attention was focused on trying to reach over or through the talons to grab his dick and being unable to. Then the earth dropped away dizzyingly as Gren was lifted higher into the air. Hot breath washed over Gren’s backside, and, registering something wet, he realized that the tongue was back with a vengeance.

His hands now uselessly unable to reach anything, Gren braced his feet on the horned chin of the monster and pushed and heaved with all his strength. It made no difference, only made it harder to clench against the insistent writhing at his rim. Gren kept struggling, wiggling in the monster’s grip, pushing away, trying to unclasp the talons. No matter how futile, he had to seize a chance for escape — the powerful muscular tongue was clearly going to win if he didn’t.

Soren was sputtering and cursing below. Risking the distraction of glancing down, Gren saw the monster rubbing Soren’s face on one of its cocks, coating it thickly with its secretions. Soren’s strong arms struggled with it ineffectually, unable to push himself away.

The tongue breached Gren’s rim and he jerked into a fetal position, yelping. That was a mistake. No longer braced against the dragon’s snout, Gren’s momentum pushed him onto more of the tongue all at once and he felt it slide hot and deep inside him, soft and yielding to his twitching sphincter. It wiggled and Gren yelled out, feet finding purchase once more as he tried to arch away from the foreign sensation. The tongue pulled out a fraction, then surged forward deeper, Gren’s rim stinging as it was stretched further.

Panicking, Gren resisted the urge to cry. He’d never felt so powerless before. Even on the battlefield against fully-fledged dragons or elves, as terrifying as that had been sometimes, he had at least been able to wield weapons, trust his armor, and rely on his strength and training to find a way out of tight spots.

Now he had nothing but the hope that Claudia was on her way back to them from whatever secret cave she had traveled to. That, and his presence of mind, to watch out for any opportunities that presented themselves, and make full use of them. Taking a deep breath, Gren went slack. Best save his strength and try to earn some goodwill from their captor if at all possible.

The dragon gave out what Gren thought might be a pleased croon as it sunk its tongue painfully further inside, twisting and wiggling it erratically, making the surface of Gren’s abdomen wobble. Gren squeezed his eyes, digging his nails into the dragon’s stonelike talons as he tried to ride out the pain.

Below, he could see and hear Soren gasping for air and trying to spit out any putrid liquid that had gotten in his mouth as he struggled against the disgusting cockhead he was being battered against.

“Soren, how long d’you reckon it will be before your sister returns?” he called, voice wavering.

“I — ” his face was smeared in fresh precome, “I don’t know. She said probably before sunset, but —” he was interrupted again, “— but I hope it’s fucking sooner rather than later.”

Panic aside, Gren was hit with a pang of worry about Soren’s wellbeing. That was the single least frivolous thing that he’d ever heard from the young knight, and Gren only now remembered just how _young_ his companion was.

There was a great big squelch from behind him and Gren shuddered head to toe, his dick twitching. _Good lord_. The tongue had retracted from his body and his rim spasmed in its absence, closing and stinging, but buzzing in a way that forcibly and unpleasantly reminded Gren of when Soren had joked, _“This is definitely going to awaken something in me,”_ a few minutes ago.

Soren yelped and Gren peered over to find the poor young man sitting astride one of the large cocks, being rubbed slowly across it.

“Oh, come on! It had just started going down!” Soren complained loudly between hisses of pain as Gren was lowered slowly and made to straddle the other cock, his back to the beast. Turning to Gren, Soren wiped at the slime his face was caked in and said darkly, “I think I’ve figured it out — to make it stop, I need to _not_ touch it, no matter how tempting…” he trailed off, glaring down at the dragon’s dick that was obviously stimulating Soren’s problem back to full force.

Gren was himself struggling with stimulation causing unwelcome results. Not really expecting any good to come of it, he tried to push away from his slippery seat, realized that there were worse things the dragon could do, and went limp once more, frowning as his dick continued to react to the hot, wet friction.

“These things are really horrible, aren’t they?” Soren muttered quietly from next to him as their shins brushed one another. He had lost all his usual spark and humor and was staring glumly down at the cocks.

“They really are,” was all Gren could think to say.

Each almost as thick as a human leg, rippled with subcutaneous bulges and growths that resembled fuzzy moles, the grey cocks were revolting to look at even if you couldn’t smell them and didn’t have to touch them. The heads looked like a horse cock had turned partway human, the tips somewhat more tapered. The spongy texture of it, miniscule and unnoticeable on human tissue, was so exaggerated by the scale that it appeared pustulous. Streaming from the tips were long strands of cloudy off-white fluid somewhat spotted with streaks of something green. Precome had spread all over the dick and Gren’s thighs, dripping off his feet. And the smell…

Gren gagged and looked up at the sky. They still had hours of sunlight left. _“Before sunset,”_ could mean a long time. And that’s assuming Claudia could combat the dragon beast with whatever magic supplies she had on hand, after so many of her supplies had been destroyed.

He squirmed uncomfortably, his dick hard and his ass still sore from the earlier invasion. Above, the dragon was emitting pleased grunts, seemingly in no rush to either come or kill them. Gren tested the grip around his torso, but found it as solid as ever. Then the claw moved, stopping him on a slide backwards, and Gren tensed, immediately poised for an escape should an opening present itself. But the dragon changed its grip without opening its claw too wide and picked Gren up off its cock to face him, his legs kicking out nervously in midair.

“Now what?” Soren whispered, dangling beside him.

The dragon regarded them both, bringing them close to sniff and lick at their faces.

“You know,” Soren grumbled as his hair was licked somewhat clean of the dragon’s precome, “I wish I didn’t know exactly where that tongue’s been.”

But all of Gren’s disgust at the observation died on the spot as he was lowered down, the broad head of a cock wetly brushing his ass cheek. He started struggling again with renewed vigor, kicking the dragon’s dick away from himself. Next to him, Soren was doing the same.

They put up a good fight, considering, but it didn’t last.

Irritated, the dragon gave Soren a good shake and held him out at a distance while it turned its full attention on Gren. With a little clever maneuvering, a vicelike grip around Gren’s waist, and a relentless pressure, it pushed Gren securely enough against its cock to render Gren’s struggles useless. Resisting any intrusion, Gren’s rim stung at the disturbance, but slowly, without anywhere else to go at the mounting pressure, it started to open. First only a little, as Gren clenched, then a lot as he switched tactics and tried to push. That was clearly the wrong thing to do, because before he could try squeezing again, the whole head slipped in and Gren yelled out at the flared crown of the head popped in. He sat on the intrusion panting, in shock at the twinging pain in his rim and unbelieving that the head had fit at all. Pushing did nothing now, the head locked in place, and clenching seemed to only draw the shaft in deeper.

Gren whimpered, slumping.

They were going to _die_ before Claudia made it back.

The dragon turned its head and switched focus to Soren.

“Mind a little advice?” Gren called over.

Soren turned wide eyes on him, the last of his courage gone, skin paler than ever. He didn’t say anything, just searched Gren’s face desperately.

“Don’t push. Just clench like hell and hope for the best.”

Soren nodded, still holding Gren’s gaze as he was lined up with the beast’s other cock. He started to shake.

Straining to reach, Gren stretched his arm out, whispering Soren’s name.

Soren eyed it, suddenly flaring with teenage contempt again. “Seriously?” he asked.

Gren sighed and dropped his hand. “Suit yourself.”

Then Soren yelped and started struggling.

Gren couldn’t watch. He found a spot on the dragon’s leathery chest and stared resolutely at it as Soren’s whimpers and growls grew in volume. Gren shut his eyes and tried to block the whole world out.

The struggling stopped very suddenly and the dragon groaned.

Finally looking over, he saw Soren clearly distraught and penetrated, legs flexed tight with pain and discomfort and face drawn with oncoming hysteria.

The grip around Gren’s torso tightened and the abominable intrusion inside him moved deeper. Searing pain washed over his rim as the damaged tissue was forced to slide across the bumps, both smooth and rough, that covered the dragon’s dick from all sides. Gren placed his feet on the dragon’s abdomen to restrict how far it could push, but he barely slowed the dragon’s motion, and his feet were still slick and kept sliding off the smooth hide.

When he thought he would completely rip open, that he could feel it almost in his throat, the dragon lifted him back off. The sensation was less painful but somehow endlessly more disorienting, as it felt like Gren’s whole digestive system was coming out with it, but in a way that made his eyes cross and his dick twitch. Gren shuddered the whole way.

The next thrusts were the same. Grinding agony then a suction-type of pleasure. Gren grit his teeth, losing track of whether he felt scared of further injury, more aroused than he’d ever been, or certain these were his last minutes alive.

A fluttering out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Hey, Gren?”

Gren turned and saw Soren stretching his hand out. Big scared eyes stared imploringly at him from a white face. Gren grasped his callused hand in his own, holding firm as the thrusts picked up in pace.

The dragon, who’d had its eyes closed in pleasure, opened them then, and upon seeing their clasped hands, laughed harshly, drenching them in its hot breath. It swung them close, angling them so that their shoulders bumped against one another, and they winced and hissed as the thrusts into them grew harsher. Soren was dangling almost senselessly, repeating Gren’s name as if holding to a lifeline, and Gren was convinced that now and then his inner organs _did_ get pulled right out of him. He convulsed wretchedly at the rising sensation of pleasure where most of the damage was.

They were shifted again, this time their faces smushed together, and Gren gagged at the heavy scent of the monster’s precome that still clung to Soren’s face. Soren came alive once more, and struggled away from Gren, though his hand still clung tight to Gren’s.

“ _This_ shit, Lieutenant? All your fault,” he groaned. “Holding hands… Great idea! Now it thinks we like to kiss too. What’s next? It’ll make me suck _your_ dick too?”

Gren chuckled weakly, taking it as a good sign that Soren seemed to have recovered a little of his personality. “Sorry. I take full responsibility for this one.”

Soren’s reply was cut off. The dragon had stopped fucking them while buried deep. Instead of pulling out, it pushed deeper yet, making both knights squirm in panic. The pressure let up some, but their heads were squeezed together more insistently.

“Oh no, I think you’re right about the kissing,” Gren groaned, still queasy from the deep push.

“For the record,” said Soren as he used his free hand to align Gren’s mouth to his own, “I really hate you.”

Gren gagged again as the revolting taste of the beast’s precome transfered to his lips from Soren’s.

He was about to say the feeling was mutual when Soren continued, muttering into their stiff kiss, “I don’t even want to hear it. You can’t imagine how much I still want to vomit.”

Gren laughed again, unable to help himself, and felt Soren crack a smile in return, the kiss softening into something more reassuring and soft.

The dragon started moving them again, slowly increasing speed. Unsure whether they could stop kissing or not, Gren and Soren cautiously huddled their faces close, panting into each other’s mouths, keeping each other company through the misery with just their closeness and eye contact.

It was strange, getting to know so intimately Soren’s reactions to pain and pleasure. The way that his bottom lip curled in at either, the way his legs twitched on the thrust in and the way his shoulders shuddered forward on the pull out. Gren had never thought this would be anything other than a personal hell, but it somehow had become a shared microcosm, and they were playing out their most intimate instincts for each other. Gren didn’t even want to know what _Soren_ could learn about _him_ right now.

The claws around them seized, Soren grunted in pain, and they were held firmly still, fully seated on the cocks. Gren squirmed at the unpleasant fullness.

“What now?” Soren whispered, a smile trying to flare up on his face but quickly fading.

“I don’t know what could be worse, really,” Gren answered, also trying for a light tone.

He wiggled again, wanting to ease the bloated feeling, and with a loud rude sound, displaced a glob of slime from himself. He smacked Soren’s shoulder, who’d started smirking and looked like he was about to say something stupid.

Another obscene noise broke out, this time not coming from Gren, and wiped the tired smirk right off Soren’s face.

“Um,” Soren said, now also shifting in discomfort, “Not to panic, but um… Do you think —”

Gren knew exactly what Soren was thinking. His whole abdomen was starting to feel more distended and sore, bloated in a way that went beyond the pain of penetration. When his skin was so inflated that it pressed up against the confining claw, he knew for certain that he wasn’t imagining things.

Gren burped and something sour and sticky came up. He wiped it urgently off his tongue, confused and alarmed, and found his fingers coated in something sticky and milky white.

Soren’s wide eyes were flicking between Gren’s face and shaking hand. “That’s impossible.” Then he whimpered, and the glimpse Gren got of his queasy face before it ducked out of sight told him Soren might be finding out just how possible it is. He squeezed Soren’s hand and had his own squeezed back.

Meanwhile, his stomach continued to swell painfully, now too big for the claw holding him, and he felt his body squeezing into every nook between the dragon’s talons. He burped again and more come came up, coating his mouth with its unpleasant sickly taste. Soren gagged, and a whole lot of it came dribbling over his lip and onto the monster’s claw. He gagged again and more came out, flowing in a thick, milky strand.

Gren got a sense of vertigo.

With a jolt, they sank deeper onto the cocks inside them, both coughing up more sticky liquid that was now making it hard to breathe.

Looking around in alarm, Gren saw that the dragon had sat down hard on the grass. His mind was suddenly wiped by a pleasurable sensation and he dropped his head as he felt the shaft of the dick once more, very slowly, slide from him, all the bumps and knots sliding easily past his worn out rim.

He was shifted back and forth slightly, up and down, the flared head sweetly threatening to come out, but brushing across his internal tissue in such a teasing way that Gren’s eyes rolled back. Soren’s head fell to his shoulder, and he cursed incoherently into Gren’s ear.

The head pulled out with a loud lurch and for a moment Gren felt like his insides got doused with cold water at its absence. Hot, slick come gushed down his legs, and the ground rushed to meet him. He yelled out, braced, but the dragon set him down gently. Shaken, disoriented, abdomen huge, Gren could barely get his limbs under him to pick himself up. He swayed into Soren, who was vomiting more come into the grass, looking just as dazed.

Biting back his own gagging, Gren looked over his shoulder and yelped as he was knocked off his hands and knees onto his back. Then the tongue was back between his legs. Gren struggled to get away, but a heavy claw pinned his chest and head to the ground as his ass was licked. Then the tongue moved to his erection, licking it heavily and making Gren’s head spin. He hiccuped and tasted more come in his mouth. Feeling ill, he twisted to his side as much as he could and retched, coating the grass next to his head with a sticky pool. His dick throbbed, but Gren realized that his rim, on the other hand, seemed to not hurt at all anymore. The come escaping from it felt like only a small stream now even though Gren’s stomach was still swollen to obscene and painful dimensions. Realizing he wasn’t going to be let up until he came, Gren closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensations, spitting out come occasionally as he bucked up into the hot tongue.

He didn’t last long. Coming hard, and crashing from the fear-fueled state, his mind completely shut off all thinking for a blissful few minutes. He didn’t move when he felt the dragon retreat, lifting the talons that had held Gren down. He didn’t so much as crack an eye open when he heard that Soren was being given the same treatment. There was a good chance that they would be killed soon and Gren felt too tired to do much of anything other than relax and enjoy his last few minutes, limbs heavy, mind drifting.

He woke from his doze when Soren came very noisily. Gren would have ignored it and gone back to sleep if he didn’t suddenly have to roll up to all fours and vomit again.

A hot gust of wind slammed into him and pushed him to the ground. Fully awake now, Gren gasped for air, unable to draw full breath, thinking that he would suffocate, and then —

The air calmed.

Looking wildly around, Gren could not see the dragon anywhere.

Soren lay on his side facing Gren, looking too relaxed to budge. Come slid lazily out of his open mouth.

Still not seeing the dragon anywhere, Gren started to crawl over to Soren, his stomach so huge and heavy it had to be dragged along the grass.

“Lieutenant?” Soren asked without opening his eyes. “How long do you think we have to live? I can’t feel my ass at all.

Gren sighed and braced himself. “Roll over. Let’s see the damage.”

Clutching his stomach to pick it off the ground, Soren rolled to his other side. Gingerly, Gren moved his fingers across Soren’s muscular backside, and leaned close to see —

Frowning with confusion, he brushed the leaking come aside so he could get a better look at Soren’s damaged rim.

Except that it wasn’t damaged at all.

Aside from a small trickle of come, Soren’s ass did not in any way look like it had been abused past its limits just a few minutes ago. Letting go of Soren’s behind, Gren reached behind himself, only to find the same situation under his fingertips. He pushed and felt his rim open, leaking heavy globs of come right as he burped more of the sickly substance into his mouth.

“Well…” he said, wiping his hands off on the grass. “The good news is that there’s a good chance we won’t die at all. I don’t know about your insides, but your ass is fine.”

Soren looked at him with a confused frown deeper than Gren’s. “What do you mean, fine? I _heard_ something rip. There’s nothing _fine_ about that.” But his hand had already found his own rim and he’d found the same thing as Gren, making him sit up in alarm and feel it from a different angle. A wave of come came out of his ass as he did so, accompanied by a loud wet sound. Soren looked up again, looking more confused than ever. “What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is I think we’ll be passing come for weeks. From both ends.”

Soren sagged.

“And also,” Gren continued, “your sister will come back within a few hours and we’ll have to explain at least some of what happened.”

Soren yelped, tried to stand, then sank back down, clutching his stomach and wincing. “We won’t even be able to put on our pants and armor like this.”

Gren groaned.

They stared at each other in silence for a while.

Then Soren glanced in the direction of the stream that lay some hundred yards away, on the other side of some bushes. Exchanging a grim nod, both knights got to their hands and knees and started to crawl toward it, groaning and making bad jokes the whole way.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more ficlets, imagines, sketches, and paintings on my pillowfort, [razielim](https://www.pillowfort.io/razielim), where I've currently set up residence. Adults only.
> 
> You can also [download all of Smutmas as a PDF](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oh9x41sqzm-WUpeUA9g942ioQpmd1n77/view?usp=sharing) this year! :D


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